


The Perfect Cast

by as_with_a_sunbeam



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 1790, 18th Century Politics, Federalist Scheming, Gen, June - Freeform, Pre- Room Where it Happens, The Fishing Trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/as_with_a_sunbeam/pseuds/as_with_a_sunbeam
Summary: After seeing Hamilton struggle to get his financial plan through Congress while Washington was ill with pneumonia, Washington forms a plan.__AKA The infamous fishing trip
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & George Washington, Alexander Hamilton & Thomas Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler
Comments: 16
Kudos: 137





	The Perfect Cast

**June 1790**

“Perhaps we should consider going without Mr. Hamilton?” Jefferson suggested. “I’d hate to miss much more of this fine spring day if he’s found himself otherwise occupied.”

Washington turned, raising a hand to shield his eyes against the brilliant sunshine reflecting off the water. “He’ll be along.”

Jefferson sighed and gave his pocket watch a significant look.

“Huzzah!” a man shouted, hanging out the window of a passing carriage and waving his hat in Washington’s direction. “Long live Washington!”

Washington nodded in acknowledgement, as he had to all the other passersby who’d cheered his return to the land of the living. He returned his attention to the street beyond, clearing his throat roughly. His chest still ached with the remnants of the pneumonia that had laid him low for the past month. Even the short stroll from the carriage to the dock had left him winded. The warm sunshine and fresh sea air were doing him good, though; he could feel strength returning to his limbs as he balanced his weight, watching for Hamilton’s arrival.

When he’d first considered a fishing trip to get some quality outdoor time without overly exerting himself, he’d issued an invitation first to Philip Schuyler. A calm, pleasant sail with an old friend had seemed just the thing to get him back on his feet. Schuyler had smiled, but after considering a long moment, recommended, “My dear son-in-law could better use a day away from the press of business, I think. Might he come along?” 

Indeed, when Hamilton had arrived for a visit, he’d looked exhausted, dark rings around his eyes and an unusual stoop to his shoulders. With no precedent to govern to whom the President’s duties fell when he was too ill to carry them out, the brunt of the daily functions of the executive had fallen to Hamilton. On top of that, Hamilton had been campaigning day and night for passage of his credit plan. All in all, the boy had looked worse than Washington; and, considering that two of his three physicians had opined that Washington wouldn’t live out the month, that was saying something.

“I don’t understand how Congress can be so stubborn and willfully ignorant,” Hamilton had complained when he’d settled into the chair beside Washington, swigging down a shot of brandy and shuddering slightly at the resulting burn. “Rebuilding American credit requires we have _American_ credit, not fourteen separate debts all leveraged to varying degrees of dizzying excess. Why don’t they understand that?”

“Voting for the federal government to assume all the states’ debts won’t be popular in the southern states that have already paid down their own.”

“One state’s credit means nothing if the others are teetering on bankruptcy.”

Washington had refilled Hamilton’s drink and held up a placating hand. “I know that. And so does Mr. Madison. But that doesn’t stop him being beholden to his constituents.”

“He shouldn’t be beholden to their wrong-headed opinions. He should be leading them, helping them understand why this is the correct course of action. Otherwise, what even is the point of electing leaders to develop specialized knowledge of these subjects? Why don’t we just descend into anarchy now and be done with it!”

“It’s not so bad as all that,” he’d said.

Hamilton had slumped in his chair, defeat dragging down his shoulders and hollowing his eyes. “I’m going to lose the vote. I don’t know what else to do.”

The pang in Washington’s chest at the sight had little to do with his illness. He’d leaned forward to squeeze Hamilton’s shoulder once, consolingly. “We’ll figure something out.”

He’d been gratified to see that a little flicker of hope had sparked in Hamilton’s face at the assurance.

The plan had unfolded from there.

A hired coach pulled to a stop at the entrance to the docks, the passenger door opening almost before the horses had fully halted.

“Here he is now,” Washington said, catching a glimpse of the green silk coat Hamilton favored in warm weather.

Jefferson muttered under his breath, “Finally.”

“My apologies,” Hamilton called as he rushed down the dock. “I had a meeting with some Congressmen this morning, and it ran a bit longer than I’d intended.”

“Was it productive?” Washington inquired.

“What?” Hamilton asked, slowing his pace as he approached, winded and not a little flustered.

“The meeting?” Washington clarified.

“Oh. No.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached out to clap Hamilton on the back.

He saw surprise play across Hamilton’s features as he noted Jefferson’s presence behind him. A charming smile quickly took its place, though, and Hamilton bowed genially. “Mr. Jefferson, I didn’t know you’d be joining us.”

“I was happy to answer the President’s invitation. I’ve always quite enjoying fishing. And I couldn’t turn down a chance to enjoy the water one such a fine day.”

“I confess I’m rather a hopeless fisherman,” Hamilton said, stepping over the side of the fishing boat with care. “But the weather certainly is fine.”

With the three of them boarded, the boat was unmoored and slowly made its way out to sea. Washington stood beside Hamilton, studying his bruised eyelids with a frown. “You know, I had rather hoped that you had slept in this morning.”

Hamilton gave an amused chuckle. “Alas, no, sir. My habit of sleeping late into the morning was long since drilled out of me.”

“A pity,” Washington replied sincerely; he looked like he could have used a good lie in.

“You think so? It was mostly your doing.”

“Mine?”

“Or Harrison’s doing at your behest.” Washington smiled at the memory as Hamilton turned to Jefferson, attempting to include him in the joke. “Colonel Harrison enjoyed ripping me out of my cot by the ankle whenever the opportunity presented itself. I woke to my rump hitting the floor many a morning. I had terrible bruises the first several months of my work as the General’s aide.”

“Really? I would have imagined rising punctually was an important part of being on his Excellency’s staff,” Jefferson said mildly, folding himself into a seat by the rail.

“Oh, Hamilton never had a problem waking punctually. He just enjoyed making Colonel Harrison’s life difficult. McHenry, too, for that matter. I heard an abundance of fake snoring coming from the aide’s quarters of a morning in those years.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Hamilton replied, grinning from ear to ear. Washington could see a hint of melancholy behind his eyes, though, Harrison’s recent passing rendering the memories bittersweet.

Expression softening, Hamilton continued, “And even had you not forced me to be an early riser, my children certainly would have managed. Three of them were awake at four this morning, practically bouncing off the ceiling with energy. It’s hard to sleep with three little demons jumping on the bed.”

Washington chuckled. “Washy has a penchant for waking his grandmother in a similar fashion.”

“I suppose you no longer need to worry about that, Mr. Jefferson,” Hamilton said. “I envy you your grown children.”

“No, indeed. At least, not until the grandchildren arrive. You know my Patsy was just married?”

The trip was off to a better start than Washington had initially imagined. Of course, Hamilton had always had an easy way about him when politics weren’t involved; he was charming, with a sunny disposition that made him hard to dislike in person. Washington tipped his head back, soaking in the sun as the conversation rolled over him, Hamilton doing most of the heavy lifting.

“Should we prepare the fishing poles?” Jefferson asked eventually. “We should be nearing Sandy Hook soon.”

“I’ll defer to your good judgment, Mr. Jefferson,” Hamilton said, standing up presumably to fetch the poles. The boat rocked on a wave as he stood, and he reached out hurriedly to brace himself on the rail.

“Are you all right?” Washington asked.

“Fine,” he said, still holding the rail as he moved forward. “I’m not overly fond of boats.”

As Hamilton disappeared below deck, Jefferson asked, “We’re not disturbing you too much, I hope, Mr. President? I know you’re still trying to rest and recover.” His eyes flickered towards Hamilton’s path as he spoke, making clear that by “we” he’d meant “Hamilton.”

“Not at all. I enjoy Mr. Hamilton’s conversation.”

“He’s very charming,” Jefferson agreed. “I can see why Mrs. Church spoke of him so agreeably. I certainly don’t have to worry about carrying the conversation.”

“No. That’s rarely a concern when Alex is involved.”

“Talking about me?” Hamilton called, making his way back to them with three tackle boxes balanced precariously in his hands.

“Mr. Jefferson was remarking that you’re a very good conversationalist,” Washington said.

“You mean I talk too much.” Before Jefferson could interject with an assurance to the contrary, Hamilton gave a self-deprecating smile. “Sorry. Old habit. Tends to happen when I’ve too much on my mind. Feel free to tell me to be quiet.”

“I didn’t mean that at all,” Jefferson said, though Washington felt confident that Hamilton had cut straight through to the heart of Jefferson’s complaint. 

“Well, the offer stands.”

As Washington accepted his tackle box with a nod of thanks, he suggested, “Why don’t you share with Mr. Jefferson what’s been weighing on your mind these past weeks?”

“Oh, I’m sure Mr. Jefferson doesn’t want to hear me blathering on about assumption,” Hamilton demurred.

Jefferson shifted as he assembled his own pole. “In fact, I feel a little at a loss on the matter. Having only just taken up my position, it seems I’ve missed some of the finer points of the debate. It would be enlightening to hear your thoughts on the topic, Mr. Hamilton.”

Washington didn’t doubt for a moment that Jefferson was up to speed on every point of the debate; the capital had been abuzz with talk of little else since his return. A good strategy, though, to claim ignorance of the matter. It meant Hamilton would talk and Jefferson wouldn’t be required to supply his own point of view.

“If you insist, sir. But remember you’ve brought it on yourself,” Hamilton teased.

They were floating idly by Sandy Hook when Jefferson said, “The assumption of the all the war debt would surely be a staggering sum. How long, in your estimation, would it take for the government to pay it all back?”

“That’s rather beside the point.”

Jefferson blinked. “Beside the point?”

“Yes. We need to show other countries that we can use credit responsibly. We’ll need to increase the efficiency of our revenue collection to ensure timely payments, of course, but the goal is not to discharge the debt.”

“How can that be?”

“To show creditors one is responsible, one must use credit responsibly. That means continuing to borrow and make payments. Its basic finance.”

Jefferson’s lips had thinned into a long, displeased line. “You say you’re going to increase the efficiency of our revenue collection. How?”

“Building new lighthouses, refurbishing those already in existence, establishing a coast guard,” Hamilton ticked each item on his fingers as he spoke, his fishing pole having long since been set down on the deck of the boat so that he could speak with his hands. “We need to ensure smugglers are stopped, and good trading partners can get to port safely.”

“And this will be enough to discharge…I’m sorry, pay down the debt?”

“That, and some minor tax increases.”

“Tax increases.”

“Yes.”

“Did we not just fight a war against tax increases?”

“That wasn’t why we fought a war.”

“Funny. I remember it being quite a heated topic of conversation.”

“We fought a war because those tax increases were being forced upon us by Parliament, a body to which we as colonists had no representation. An American Congress, full of representatives of the American people, is perfectly at liberty to raise taxes if they deem it necessary.”

Jefferson’s eyes widened. “You want to force hard working people, many of whom have already done their part to pay down their own state’s debt, to pay more in taxes to a central government, to pay down a massive debt, in perpetuity. Am I understanding you correctly?”

“Our debt was incurred as a nation. It should be paid off as a nation. The debt will exist whatever we choose to do with it. This way, at least, we’ll start our nation off on a strong financial footing.”

“Have you ever spoken to a small Virginian farmer, Mr. Hamilton? Have you ever even been to Virginia?”

“Only the once.” Hamilton gaze had turned steely, his posture straightening. “And I must admit I didn’t have much time to talk to farmers while I was fighting to help force Cornwallis’s surrender.”

“Well,” Jefferson said, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“I think this conversation may be growing a little heated for such a fine spring day as this,” Washington interjected.

“You’re right, sir. My apologies,” Hamilton said quickly.

“And mine, Mr. President,” Jefferson added. “Let’s leave politics for a more appropriate time and enjoy our sport.” 

Tentative truce struck, they enjoyed the good weather and caught several blackfish and bass each. The topic rested until their shared coach pulled up in front of Washington’s Cherry Street house that evening. Hamilton leaned to look through the window as the horses pulled to a stop, and asked, “Is that my wife?”

Washington craned is head to look past him and saw that Eliza had indeed stepped out behind Martha. “It seems our wives have been plotting in our absence,” he noted lightly.

Hamilton alighted quickly from the coach and hurried towards the two ladies, arms outstretched. Eliza, he noticed fondly, looked as thrilled to see her husband as if he’d been gone on a months long journey. As they embraced, Hamilton swung her off her feet to spin her around.

“Mr. President,” Jefferson said, catching his attention before he could follow Hamilton’s path towards the house. “How…how can you, as a Virginian, support Mr. Hamilton’s plan?”

Washington sat back against his seat, considering the man before him. “I do not support it as a Virginian.” Jefferson’s brow rose hopefully. “I support it as an American. But of course, it is for Congress to say whether it will be adopted into law.”

“It’s not only his financial plan that causes me unease, sir. I can’t say I know Mr. Hamilton well, but I have seen some worrying tendencies since you fell ill. He was far too enthusiastic in assuming the mantle of authority. That he’s ambitious is easy to see, and that combined with being admittedly charming, handsome, young, and a war hero besides…well, I worry that he is exactly the sort of man who could undo a republic.”

“Have a care, Mr. Jefferson,” Washington said sharply. “Mr. Hamilton’s talent and ambition has done nothing but aid this country thus far, and I have no doubt that he will continue to use his abilities in America’s best interest.”

Jefferson sighed, inclining his head. “If you say so, sir. As I said, I don’t know the gentleman well.”

Washington softened. “I do believe he’s acting in our collective best interest, but I think there’s room to, shall we say, soften the blow for our southern brethren.”

Jefferson’s head tilted to the side, considering.

“Do we understand each other?”

“I think we do.”

Washington nodded, and stepped down from the coach. Martha hurried to greet him.

“You’re looking a world better, my dearest,” she said, scrutinizing his face. “The sunshine did you good.”

“It did,” he agreed.

Eliza was still hugging Hamilton on the stoop. She pulled back slightly to ask, “How did your conversation with Mr. Jefferson go?”

Hamilton craned around to look at Washington, and Washington gave him a meaningful nod.

A mischievous look lit Hamilton’s face as he confided to his wife, “Exactly according to plan, I’d say.” 

Eliza laughed when Hamilton spun her around once again.

**Author's Note:**

> My take on the day Washington decided to take Hamilton and Jefferson along on a fishing trip as part of his recovery from pneumonia. Jefferson took up his post as Secretary of State in March 1790, so his relationship with Hamilton wasn't as acrimonious as it would eventually become in June of that year, but even so, he had to know it wouldn't exactly be restful with the two of them in an enclosed space. The famous dinner party happened about two weeks after the fishing trip.


End file.
